The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1887-12-01

vate office having a window openinp
about ten feet above the street. Shortly
after the adjournment of the morning
board, just as Mr.. Whiskers was deeply
engaged in discussing heavy transac-
ton with a client, the soft tweedle-
decide of hand organ foated in from
the street outside. 1t was a familiar
tune. 1t was Sweet Violets." Mr..
Whiskers smiled, caressed his mustache
with repressed complacency. and then
plunged deeply into business again,
for the matter was important.
"Huh! Huhr A tink-tink sounded
at the window. He and his friend
turned. A small monkey with the
cOuntenance of Methusaleh and dirty
red jacket stood on the window-sill. 1t
took off a cap with ragged feather in
1t and bowed profoundly. Around it's
neck was little wreath of pretty blue
viOlets.
Cunning little beast" said Mr..
Whiskers. kindly. He put half dol
lar in the cup and the monkey went
away. The organ played ''Sweet Vio-
lets" once more, and then all three of
them went down the street and played
no more within hearing.
Twenty-four hours had elapsed with
the usual industry of hours when Mr..
Whiskers was in exactly the same place
with another important client AS
they talked, peculiar sound as of a
very large hand organ was heard.
Singularly enough the music was
"Sweet Violets.' Mr.. Whiskers, deep
in business, paid no attention until
clatter on the sill made him turn to
discover two monkeys, with two tin
cups and two dirty red jackets and two
wreaths of fresh blue yiolets around
their necks.
He stared atthem in astonishment.
Get out, YOU" he said. impul-
sively, reaching for something to
throw.
His visitors dived below the sill,
peeled their faces, showed all their
teeth, and said: ''Huh, huh," still glar-
ing at him. Every time he made
motion they lodged like song and
dance men, in unison, and then peeked
over the sill like a Conspirators' Chorus
of two. His friend laughed. Mr.
Whiskers dropped half dollar in each
cup to get rid of them, and the collec-
tors politely departed. Not to be out
done in generosity, the two organ
grinders, keeping exact time, played
Sweet Violets" once more. and played
it with a delicacy and an expression
such as never has been heard before or
since that day.
Mr.. Whiskers wondered little that
night. The suspicion which had begun
to lurk in his mind did not get large
enough to vote, however, until after
the session next day. He was no
sooner closeted in his Office than such
an Internal jangling as could not be
listened to without neuralgia began in
the street. 1t came from four hurdy-
gurdies, all or the stone blocks in front
of the office. Tie hurdy-gurdy sounds
like the skeleton of poor, old super
annuated piano which some brute has
aroused and is tickling to death. The
four men turning four cranks were
juggling out of the four instruments a
tune which Mr.. Whiskers recognized at
once and other people somewhat later.
1t was "Sweet Violets." He had closed
his window cautiously, bat on the sill.
peering pitifully in, were four octogen-
arian monkeys, all holding pitiful little
tin cups, and all wearing collars of
sweet. beautiful violets.
Mr. Whiskers blazed. He flew out of
his Office and found the policeman after
a long, hot hunt and notified him that
if organ grinders were not kept of his
block he, the policeman. would be kept
off the force. Then he walked back
with a face very red and very conscious.
His fellow-brokers were 'onto it" If
there is any thing of interest to himself
or his brother that broker will not
get "onto'' it must be concealed under
a trick block. That day and night Mr..
Wbiskers was certainly the maddest
man in town. He knew of course that
some malicious rival was at the bottom
of it, and if he had found him there
would have been murder in all the de-
grees known to the law.
Strange to say, the talk with the po-
liceman did not the slightest good.
There was corruption of the largest
kind at work. During the next two
days the very bricks in the cornices on
New street were singing ''Sweet Vio-
let's" Hand organs, hurdy-gurdys,
orguinettes, German bands = every
thing in a great city that could make
noise was making it to the familiar
air in New street. Mr.. Whiskers sat
frothing at the mouth in his Office, won
dering how much it would cost him to
shoot dead blind tenor who was roar
ing it under his window under the mis-
taken impression that he was intoxi-
eating somebody's soul. That night
Mr.. Whiskers got almost drunk. He
was helpless. He could not fight back.